


Pink rose

by Kangoo



Series: April Bouquet [28]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Alcohol, Friendship....?, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:49:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23912572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kangoo/pseuds/Kangoo
Summary: It occurs to Drifter that this evening isn’t going according to plan. He lifts his head off Shin’s shoulder and tries to feel irritated about it. He fails.
Relationships: The Drifter/Shin Malphur
Series: April Bouquet [28]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1685779
Comments: 6
Kudos: 47





	Pink rose

**Author's Note:**

> this story was entirely inspired by [this thread](https://twitter.com/Agent_R24/status/1122698804736606208) by @Agent_R24, and that's where most of the dialogue comes from. here's hoping they don't mind
> 
> theme: trust/confidence

The Revelry is a time of joy. Celebration of growth, survival, resurrection, whatever it is this week. The way Drifter sees it, it’s mostly an excuse to get hammered, which means he’s all for it.

Listen. Guardians are self-righteous even on a good day but he’s gotta give them this: they know how to party. And Drifter doesn’t turn down free drinks.

Hence why he’s sitting at a bar in the bazaar for once instead of drinking alone on his ship. The place is full with Guardians running around and dancing like their life depends on it. A few give him the side-eye but for the most part he’s left alone. It’s a party: everyone’s invited. Even the guy who hides in the basement and offers shady deals to Lightbearers. One of them has been staring more than he’d like though, and he’s starting to get the feeling this Hunter means trouble.

Then he comes and sits next to Drifter and tilts his head, and under the hood Drifter sees the familiar face of one Shin Malphur staring back.

That explains why he was watching Drifter, but raises a dozen other questions. First one being ‘what the fuck is the Renegade doing in a bar’. He thought the guy survived on Light and justice alone. Didn’t know he could fit alcohol into his diet as well.

Drifter motions to the bartender for two more glasses. If he’s gonna make it through this conversation, he’ll need more alcohol than the single beer he currently has. The tired-looking civilian behind the bar drops two glasses of whiskey in front of them before running back to the other end of the counter and the group of Guardians noisily making their order there.

“You’re here for business or for pleasure, pal?” Drifter asks, casually keeping his attention on his glass rather than the man sitting at his side while still watching him out the corner of his eyes.

“Just for a drink,” he replies, quiet, and takes a sip of whiskey.

Something relaxes in the Drifter. The Renegade on a crusade is rarely a good news, even when you’re on his good side more often than his bad one these days. Just this once it seems he’s willing to let himself have some fun that doesn’t rely on shooting a Dredgen to death.

“Pleasure then.”

“Well. It hasn’t gotten to that _yet_.” He turns to Drifter fully, cracks a smile behind the glass held loosely in front of his face. “Why, wanna join?”

It’s a bad idea. Even on a good day he’s not sure the guy won’t try to shoot him for all the things he’s done or helped doing. Their relationship isn’t exactly friendly. They’re more like… cordial coworkers. Polite contractors. Freelancers who don’t actively want to kill each other, most of the time. They don’t _socialize_.

He says yes anyway.

Worst part is: he’s glad he did. It’s surprisingly fun, drinking with the Renegade. A few drinks in it becomes easy to find something to talk about, the distrust washed away by alcohol. He may not have seen as much of the universe as Drifter but he can definitely give him a run for his money when it comes to crazy stories. He shares them freely, only breaking off when he’s giggling too hard to continue. A surprising amount of events from his time on the road become funny in hindsight and turns out Shin is the kind to laugh at his own jokes before he can finish telling them.

It feels wrong not to follow up these anecdotes with some of his own. At first it’s a kind of competition — see who had the weirdest stuff happen to him. But eventually he’s just doing it because he enjoys it. It’s not often he can talk about these things to anyone. And Shin is a good audience, laughing himself out of breath on more than one occasion.

One story turns into a dozen, an hour to the whole night, and one thing leading to another they end up staying until the bar closes. The Revelry is an all-night kinda event but the owners have to sleep at some point if they want to reopen at nightfall.

Still, it’s closer to morning than to night when they stumble out.

They’ve spent enough time together tonight that it feels nice even now, without the safe presence of Guardians around to keep an eye on them, to make this into a chance encounter rather than a planned thing — a date, friendly or otherwise.

Drifter has his arm slung around Shin’s shoulders but he’s not sure who’s supporting who, and the position hinders more than it helps. It’s nice though, Shin solid warmth plastered against his side as they navigate the streets, tripping over each other’s feet and giggling every time they almost fall on their faces because of it.

In this state it’s easy to offer his ship. It’s definitely easier to reach than the destination Shin had in mind when they set off from the bar: whatever it is they haven’t reached it yet and probably never will.

He transmats them to the Derelict, directly into his room. It’s too much effort changing the transmat destination to bother right now. Shin falls on his bed face first as soon as his feet hit the flooring of his ship, not bothering to take off his cloak or his boots or even the gun strapped to his thigh, which can’t be comfortable. Drifter looks at him for a moment, considers pushing him off or dragging himself somewhere else to sleep, but it’s just too much effort.

Instead he takes off the least comfortable of his armor, his boots, and shoves a gun under his pillow before dropping into bed next to Shin, far enough not to touch. The other man doesn’t so much as stir.

He can deal with this whole thing when he wakes up — either to morning or to a gun pointed at his face.

Drifter wakes up with a start and the mother of all hangovers pounding in his head. There’s an unknown weight in his bed, and he fumbles for his gun with sleep-dazed hands before he realizes it’s Shin. Still unconscious despite Drifter moving around in the same bed. It’s a miracle he’s survived so long in the wild if he’s such a heavy sleeper. Then again it might be the alcohol.

He’s got an opportunity — he’s not sure what for though. Look at him maybe? He knows what the Renegade looks like, with or without the helmet. They’re not exactly strangers. But he’s never seen him so… peaceful before. Shin gives off the energy of someone who never sleeps and the bags under his eyes support the theory, but right now he’s doing it like it’s a sport and he’s gunning for first place. At some point during the night he rolled to his side and curled on himself, wrapped in his cloak like a blanket. His hair sticks up in every direction. He’s drooling a bit.

It’s kinda cute.

The thought comes up unbidden and definitely uncalled for. Drifter looks up to the ceiling, trying to tell if it’s the hangover or the lack of human contact getting to him. Maybe the Revelry spirit is making him soft. Either way he doesn’t like it.

In retaliation for the annoying thought he causes, Drifter nudges Shin awake none-too-gently before getting out of bed — and hopefully out of shooting range for a sleep-addled Gunslinger.

Evidently Shin isn’t a morning person. Instead of whipping up his gun towards whoever touched him he grumbles, rolls on his back and cracks his eyes open a little. He makes a small noise when he sees Drifter before closing them again. Apparently, his presence here is a non-issue.

“Wake up,” He grits out, “And get out. It’s morning already.” Probably closer to afternoon, actually, but who’s counting. He nudges him again.

Shin frowns but at least agrees to open his eyes for good. He stretches across the mattress and squints at Drifter, looking more confused than annoyed. “Coffee?” He asks sleepily.

“No-” Shin yawns, rubbings his eyes with one hand as he pushes against the other to sit up. His hair is still a mess. Drifter has to stop himself from smoothing it down himself. He grunts. “I’m gonna make some.”

He turns on his heels and strides off before Shin can respond.

His kitchen area is messy — there are still pieces of Hive chitin from the last time he had to crack a Knight open scattered around the counter — but he takes care of his coffee machine better than the rest of it. The thing is nearly as old as he is, patched up using different machines he scavenged along the years in a veritable ship of Theseus situation. It is, all in all, barely recognizable as a coffee machine anymore, and possibly closer to sentience than most machines. But it’s clean and it works. Can’t ask much more of it.

It’s a little temperamental though. Drifter has only just managed to start it by the time Shin pads silently into the room. He’s carding his fingers through his hair, trying to untangle it. Obviously he hasn’t woken up all the way yet, eyes still blurry with sleep. Drifter leaves him to it and stays focused on the coffee machine like it needs adult supervision to do its thing. He hears him drop into a chair, but by the lack of following crash and/or curse it’s not the broken one.

After a little while which they spend in near perfect silence, it’s done. Drifter fills two cups to the brim and hands one to Shin. The other man wraps his hands around the warm ceramic like it’s a lifeline and throws Drifter a grateful smile before taking a large gulp of it. It’s hot enough to melt steel but that doesn’t deter him.

Alright then.

Drifter leans against the counter and sips his coffee a little slower. He looks at the stained ceiling, the still-gurgling coffee machine, the fascinating pattern of dried blood stained into the empty chair. Everywhere but Shin, basically. It’s a little too weird to have the Renegade, occasional ally and constant threat to his life, eating breakfast in his kitchen. Not that it’s much of a breakfast. Or a kitchen.

Shin is the first to break the silence.

“Hey.” He rests his head on his hand and stares at Drifter. “You busy today?”

It’s tempting to say _yes_ and send him on his way. Even more tempting to say _no_. He refuses to think about why that may be.

Wary, he settles on “Why?”

He didn’t expect Shin to duck his head slightly, covering the beginning of a blush with the messy fall of his hair over his face.

“I thought- I mean, the Revelry is still happening, so. Thought maybe we could head back down to the bazaar. Think I still owe you the context for that story about the Vandal twins, anyway.”

There’s a hopeful lilt to his voice that Drifter has never heard before. The two of them are a pair of cynics and it’s odd to hear him sound anything but tired and angry. Especially for something so trivial. It feels mean to take that away with a _no_.

(Drifter has never had any trouble being _mean_ , let alone to the Renegade, who gives as much as he takes. He’s not sure what changed. Or he doesn’t want to think about what changed. Same difference, really.)

“Fine.”

A few drinks, then he’ll come back here and forget about this weird fucking situation. He’s not going to have fun with Shin again. What are the odds, right?

“So here I am: naked, out of Glimmer and still drunk, but my window of opportunity is closing so I _have_ to infiltrate that Cabal base like, _right now_ -”

Drifter bursts into laughter and presses his forehead against Shin’s shoulder in an effort to smother it. He can’t remember the last time he’s laughed so hard. His stomach hurt, his cheeks are wet with tears, and he just can’t _stop_. Every time he looks up, he sees Shin’s pained look it sends him into another fit.

This time there isn’t even the excuse of alcohol. They haven’t drunk nearly enough for that. Yet they’re still tucked in a booth in the same bar as yesterday, shoulder to shoulder so they can both keep an eye on the room. Shin effuses warmth even through their layers of clothing. Drifter feels comfortable and maybe even happy as he closes his eyes and tries to get the chuckling under control.

It occurs to him that this evening isn’t going according to plan. He lifts his head off Shin’s shoulder and tries to feel irritated about that. He fails.

Shin huffs, but it sounds more amused than anything else.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I’m sure you’d done worse.”

He has, actually, but he’s not sure it’s wise to give that kind of ammunition to Shin of all people.

He does it anyway.

Every so often he blinks and feels like he just woke up from a dream, looks at Shin like he’s noticing him for the first time and thinks, _How the fuck did I end up in this situation._ He trails off and Shin glances curiously at him, smirks and kicks him lightly under the table.

“Losing your memory already, old man?”

Drifter kicks him back, a little harder than necessary, and can’t help the grin that follows. “Respect your elders.”

“Light, you _are_ old.”

Drifter lets it slide and continues his story where he left it off. His heart isn’t in it though, at least not entirely. He’s kind of too busy freaking out about the fact that apparently he can’t help himself from having fun with Shin Malphur. The Renegade. The Man With The Golden Gun. The person who knows the most (though far from all) of the shit Drifter did or went through. And who traded secrets for secrets, let Drifter know his name and his face and his involvement in the Shadows of Yor and a dozen other things still.

He doesn’t know if it makes less or more sense that they’re… getting along, knowing that. Doesn’t know if it should be harder or easier to let loose with someone who knows too much about you. Especially since neither of them is known for his ability to _let loose_ at all, let alone with an… enemy? Ally? Rival? Friend? Who knows.

He still hasn’t reached a satisfying conclusion by the time they get back to the Derelict. He transmated them here out of habit and now he can’t exactly throw Shin back out, can he? Not drunk as he is — as either of them are. So he lets him fall on his side of the bed, takes off his boots, his armor, and goes to follow suit.

This time he drops the gun on the floor. It’ll be a little less easy to reach, but more comfortable than sleeping on steel.

Better not think about when in the night he came to the point where sleeping next to Shin without a weapon became a good idea. Better not think about how easy it was to reach that point, to drink and talk and laugh with each other, to go to bed together.

He goes to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> if it’s not obvious yet: I don’t know how to write drifter and shin. I know maybe a fifth of their lore and am making 100% of this shit up as I go along. help.
> 
> come haunt me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/2Fast2Kangoo) or [tumblr](https://youngster-monster.tumblr.com/)


End file.
